


Since We Can’t Escape Let’s Settle And Redecorate

by NCW



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Mystic Falls but like trailer trashy?, after high school, alternative universe, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NCW/pseuds/NCW
Summary: In a desperate need of a job and a place to stay Penelope comes back to the place she swore she had left forever and finds work at a gas station convenience store. Salvatore’s is a whole lot more than she signed up for though.
Relationships: Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 24
Kudos: 61





	1. I’ve Returned To This Place

**Author's Note:**

> I’m new to writing fanfiction, so please be kind. I’m fragile. Thanks.

The gas station is quiet, completely dead besides the vehicle parked around the back of the convenience store building. She pulls her own car in beside it, killing her engine apprehensively, looking up at the employee only sign. She just sits for a moment, enveloped in the way her thoughts continue to dance around the ballroom of her mind. She’s twenty minutes early anyway because Penelope Park is a perfectionist regardless of the situation. A perfectionist who’s completely run out of options. With a sigh and her last shred of dignity, she gets out of the car and strides towards the entrance. 

The sun is nothing more then a memory, the last traces of it’s orange glow fading into the streaks of darkness that consume the sky. Not that it matters much. The lights over the pumps and the ever slick Salvatore’s sign are Penelope’s brightest nightmare, the hum of electricity her least favorite song. She can’t believe she’s actually back here right now. Can’t believe her hands are sweating and her stomach is knotting. 

This is so far beyond her last resort. This is her last resort’s last resort. She called a week ago, back when she was still packing up in New York City and had an interview over the phone. She’s pretty sure the only reason she got hired is because Caroline Forbes-Salvatore, the owner, remembered her. Their hometown is a small one and Penelope had gone to school with Caroline’s daughters for as long as she could remember. 

Caroline is a kind woman, always has been, but Penelope wouldn’t really be working with her. Caroline is some big shot consultant that travels for more months out of the year then not. Salvatore’s is just a left over side business from Caroline’s late husband. He loved cars and opened it up with a small workshop in the back parking lot. When he passed away Caroline kept the gas station and the convenience store going but didn’t know nearly enough about cars to run the shop.

So Penelope has no idea who is currently employed at Salvatore’s, who she’ll actually be working with, but there’s no doubt she knows them. Everyone knows everyone in Mystic Falls and just because she’s been gone for a few years doesn’t change that. The door opens with a jingle and inside the store is surprisingly pristine, warm from a well functioning heater. Penelope’s eyes sweep along the half dozen short aisles in the store, all well stocked with miscellaneous snacks and merchandise. Her head turns to the back, where the coffee brews hot and the slushie machines turn automatically. 

She had spent most of her childhood allowance on those damn giant cups of icey goodness. The machines are newer though, better maintained, and there’s an array of new flavors. This whole store looks about a hundred times better than Penelope remembers it. It use to be so dirty and dull, like there was no real management and the employees didn’t care. Maybe because Stephen Salvatore was always too busy in his shop to care about the store. 

“Welcome in, newbie!” Comes a voice to Penelope’s right and the familiarity of it sends a dreadful shiver down her back. 

She freezes up, back stiff as a board, and fight or flight mode seems to be making her contemplate running back out the doors. She tries to not overreact, tries to convince herself she’s wrong. That voice is generic, grating and feminine, it could belong to anyone. Any number of people Penelope use to get along with. But as she slowly turns towards the register, taking in the owner of the voice who stands behind the counter, she knows her first instinct was right. 

It’s Lizzie fucking Saltzman.

One of Caroline’s daughters and by the obnoxious smile that practically consumes her face Penelope knows the girl instantly recognizes her.

“Holy shit!” She yells, slapping her hand down on the counter. “If it isn’t Little Miss Too Good For Mystic Falls.”

Penelope can’t get a word in because Lizzie still hasn’t stopped laughing. The girl is hunched over the counter now laughing hard enough for tears to spring into the bright blue eyes of hers. 

“You know,” Lizzie finally says, a little breathless. “I thought I recognized that stupid ass car.”

Ah, yes. Penelope’s old Pontiac Firebird. It’s been her first and only car. It was a ‘going to the store and never coming back’ present from her late father. He had died sometime last year according to her mother. 

They found him on the west coast in some abandoned building with a needle in his arm. Penelope hadn’t bothered going to the funeral. It wasn’t worth the trip. That Firebird was the only thing that man ever gave her, including love. He could have rot in that building for all she cared.

Still, she remembers how cool she thought she was in high school, cruising around with a backseat full of friends, a different flavor of the week in her passenger seat. None of it meant anything now. She hasn’t talked to any of them in years. Lizzie is the first person from high school she’s seen since their graduation night and Penelope no longer feels cool at all. How could she? 

Standing in her hometown that she swore she’d never come back to, in a gas station about to work a job she never wanted, with a girl she wished she would never have to see again. No, not cool at all. Never say never, it’s bound to bite you in the ass. Penelope feels like she’s doing a walk of shame as she makes her way towards the registers. Each step heavy and regretful. 

“What,” Lizzie challenges. “No witty comeback?”

Penelope just shrugs.

Lizzie flips her hair victoriously, “Guess all those big dreams in New York didn’t work out for you.”

“Whatever. Shoot your shots now. I won’t be here long.”

“Oh, of course not.”

She’s so annoyingly sarcastic, the same way she use to be when they were kids. Lizzie and Penelope had a hard time getting along from the moment they met. Elementary to high school was nothing but a never ending cat fight between the two. Petty and manipulative, the girls were a good match for each other, but God, Penelope’s too tired for that now. She feels too defeated. 

She doesn’t have that confidence, that fire she use to. Lizzie seems the same though. Arrogant, brutally honest, and nose up as high as it can go. She’s pretty by most people’s standards but looks are so deceiving. Her combined sharp wit and bitchy attitude always left something to be desired in school and it was so quick to make her enemies. Her poorly managed bipolar disorder never helped either. 

In fact, it often got her teased, relentlessly. If anything about Lizzie has changed, Penelope hopes it’s that. The girl was a tornado of inner struggles confined within a barbie like appearance.

Penelope sighs, “I take it you’re the one doing my on boarding?”

Lizzie’s smile is simply vindictive, “Yeah, that’s my job as the boss.”

Penelope’s eyes widen, replaying those words over and over again in her mind. No. There is no way anyone in their right mind put Lizzie Saltzman in a position of power. She is controlling enough without feeling as though she has a right to be. She couldn’t possibly work under Lizzie, she would eat Penelope alive.

“I thought Caroline was the boss.”

“Mom’s just the owner,” Lizzie happily explains. “Josie and I run the place.”

That did nothing to settle Penelope’s nerves. Even if Lizzie’s sister is the other boss, the two girls have never split anything down the middle. Lizzie always takes more then her fair share. Commanding her sister around, overshadowing her, she treated her twin almost like she treated anyone else. Or at least, she use to. 

Maybe things were different now.

“Then how come I only had to speak to her in order to get hired?”

There’s no such thing as ‘just the owner’ right?They always have final say in things. Between Caroline and Josie, Penelope might stand half a chance.

“Because she found out we were only hiring our friends,” Lizzie crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m still your boss. Look, let’s keep things professional, shall we? I would like you to refer to me as Miss Saltzman.”

Penelope’s lip curls up in a scowl. She could gag at how stupidly pleased Lizzie looks. She remembers one time, back in their sophomore year, when an argument between them finally escalated too far and the two got physical. Man, what Penelope would give right now to slap Lizzie as hard as she had that day.

“Don’t worry, I won’t work you too hard. You can start by cleaning up the bathrooms.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself _Miss Saltzman_ ,” she snaps before she can stop herself.

“Woah,” another familiar voice suddenly interrupts. 

Penelope turns to see Milton Greasley walking out from the freezer section, wisps of cold air swirling around his feet and out into the store before he closes the door behind him. He looks older, broader, his chin lined ear to ear with a thin layer of facial hair. The hair on top of his head is still a delightful little afro, his dark skin looking unblemished, and his big brown eyes squint at the sight of her.

“Pen?” He says uncertainty before his face splits into one of his signature smiles, his teeth wonderfully straight and bare of the colorful braces he once had. “Penelope!”

And then he’s wrapping her up in a hug, holding her so tightly she can’t help but melt into his embrace. Her mouth presses into his shoulder and the soft fabric of his work shirt tickles her cheek. He feels strong in her arms, not like the lanky teen he use to be. He smells like cheap cologne and minty gum and it makes Penelope remember all the times they spent freshening up after sneaking around and passing a joint back and forth. They had gone everywhere together. 

They had done everything together. At one point Penelope called him her best friend. That didn’t stop her from ditching him in this god forsaken town after graduation and loosing contact with him though. No, heartless teenage Penelope left no exceptions to that ridiculous rule. 

“You look great!” He says as he pulls away, gesturing from her head to her toes.

Penelope misses his warmth instantly and tugs her cape blazer a little tighter around herself. She actually feels a little over dressed. She knew she would have just worn jeans. Her skinny dress pants and Portofino watch scream luxury but at least she remembered to wear casual shoes. 

“M.G,” she says his nickname like a forgotten prayer. “So do you. My little pothead turned into a man.”

“Still a pothead,” he smiles and shoots some finger guns her way.

It makes her smile. He hasn’t lost his cheesy sense of humor. That’s a relief.

“Babe,” Lizzie hisses the term of endearment under her breath. “You’re ruining my intimidation tactic.”

M.G had always been in love with Lizzie, psychotic tendencies and all. Penelope tried for years to wing him off her but it never happened. He was too far gone and, apparently, things ended up working out in his favor. 

“Sorry Lizzie but try to remember—“ he closes his eyes and imitates meditating. “Kindness is tranquility.”

Lizzie chucks a pen at him. It bounces off his chest and clambers to the floor. M.G pouts at the assault. 

Penelope shakes her head fondly, “So you two finally got together, huh?”

“Married last autumn,” Lizzie tells her and Penelope is sure her mouth drops open a little. 

“I tried to invite you,” M.G says, mouth twisting at the memory. “But—“

“But you changed your number,” his wife finishes for him, voice venomous, protective. “And blocked everyone on socials. Like a cunt.”

“Hey,” M.G scolds her but Lizzie just rolls her eyes.

“You two have fun catching up.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand. “I’ve gotta tell Jo.”

Then she’s off, headed in the back where Penelope assumes the office is, making a phone call to her sister. Penelope tries not to blush thinking about the girl on the other side of the phone. She’d do anything to be a fly on the wall.

“How was New York?” M.G suddenly asks, excited and hopeful and she doesn’t know how to respond.

A part of her wants to lie, save some face, tell him that it was backdrop to every single one of her dreams. That she danced her way through Central Park and screamed her name from the top of the Empire State Building. That she watched Broadway shows every night in the neon-lit Times Square and lived in an apartment in a skyscraper so tall it kissed the sky. She wanted to tell him that the streets of Manhattan were bathed in promise and possibilities and she had never been happier. That she was born again and she couldn’t wait to go back. 

It wouldn’t all be a lie after all. It had been like that but only for the first few weeks while she was still riding the high of leaving Mystic Falls. After that? It was shit. Crowded, expensive, stressful, loud shit. 

She can’t wait to get out of Mystic Falls but she doesn’t think she’ll go back to The Big Apple. At least not to live there.

So she tells him, “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

His face falls. That’s not what he wanted to hear. They had spent all of high school dreaming of that northern city that never sleeps. A luxurious life with no limit in sight. It feels wrong though, to sell M.G a dream. 

Especially one she bought so many years ago. Out of all their friends who swore they’d go, in the end, Penelope was the only one who left. Which means she was the only one who’s dream became a reality. She use to think that made her special but the loss of hope that once fluttered in her chest lets her know that certainly isn’t the case.

“I’m sorry,” the fault is definitely not his. “Is that why you’re back?”

“No, um—“ she purses her lips together, looking anywhere except at him. 

As hellacious as New York grew to be for her, the fact she left because she had to still hurt her pride. It was all she set out to do and in the end she came running back with her tail between her legs begging for scraps. The difference between changing your dream and losing your dream is the feeling it leaves behind. Is it fluttering, like new life breathing hope for the first time? Or is it an ache, like regret that leaves you dreadfully hollow? 

Change is good, failure is ruthless. 

M.G holds up his hand up, “You know what? It doesn’t even matter, Pen. It’s just good to see you again.”

She smiles gratefully and then asks, “How have you been? What’s M.G 2.0 up to nowadays?”

“Well,” he gestures around the store. “You see it. Nothing much to do in Mystic Falls except work, smoke, and die. Salvatore’s is cool though, you’ll like it here. Once Lizzie and Josie took over everyone came for easy work.”

“Everyone?”

“Oh yeah, the gangs all here. Kaleb, Alyssa, Hope and her new boyfriend.”

“Hope Mikaelson is dating someone?” Penelope can’t believe it. “Who?”

“I know right?” M.G laughs. “He’s some kid from Georgia. A nice guy though so try not to tease him to death.”

“Why would I tease him?”

“You’ll understand when you meet him. He gets more than enough shit from Lizzie.”

“Your wife,” Penelope says. “You married Lizzie Saltzman.” She hopes saying the sentence out loud will make it seem more real. “That’s so crazy.”

“Yeah,” he laughs rubbing at the back of his neck. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted and sometimes I still can’t believe I got her. She’s why I stayed, you know?”

She does know. It broke her heart, for someone to choose Lizzie Saltzman over her, again. Especially because at the time Penelope thought it was a lost cause. A fools love. The thick ring that shimmered on his left hand is proof of anything but. 

“I’m happy for you,” she tells him, hoping her words sound as genuine as they feel. “Even if you did technically sell your soul to the devil.”

M.G laughs again and it’s so contagious Penelope finds herself doing it too. It’s the first time in a long time that Penelope hasn’t had to fake it. Of course, it doesn’t last long. 

Lizzie comes out of her office like a vixen. Full of bravado and bad intentions. The corners of her lips are curled up in a barely there smile and Penelope’s stomach twists. She takes her previous desire back, she doesn’t want to know what Lizzie must have said to her sister.

“Throw this on,” the boss commands, tossing Penelope a ridiculously red shirt and stupid name tag that reads “Newbie”. She definitely isn’t pinning that to her chest. “I’m going to show you how to clock on and then we can get started.”

* * *

Penelope doesn’t care much for the back roads of Mystic Falls; it’s all bumpy and dominated by trees the moment you leave the city’s limits. No pavement or street signs just a whole lot of dirt and memorization. Wide open trails leading to a clearing that was turned into a trailer park long before anyone Penelope knew could remember. Technically it‘s called Mystic Mobile but since that sounds more like a knock off cellular service everyone usually refers to it as King’s Row. It’s not nearly as cool as it sounds. 

It’s a small community of the poorest and/or most criminalized citizens Mystic Falls has to offer, safely hidden away in the depths of the woods. So of fucking course her cousin lives here. She didn’t know why she expected anything more. Jed is technically one of those criminalized citizens after all. Oh, how their family must be delighted with how they turned out.

She makes the final turn and a seemingly endless assortment of motorhomes and trailers comes into view. For being called a row there’s no actual method to their set up, no straight lines or grid like patterns, just miscellaneous placement and makeshift yards. Penelope has no idea how she’s suppose to drive about, everything seems cluttered together. These houses are practically stacked on top of each other, she can’t tell who’s stuff is who’s. There’s no other cars around either at least not ones that look like they’re running. 

She parks in the first available place she sees. For all she knows it’s someone yard but she’s so clueless right now she doesn’t care. With her luck Jed probably lives all the way on the other side of the park. Even after living in New York for the past three years she’s not use to this level of chaos. She was raised in Mystic Falls, grew up with a pretty well off family, she usually stayed as far away from King’s Row as she could get. 

She’s sure the place has some redeeming qualities. She just hasn’t heard any of them. In her whole twenty-one years of existence. All the trailers in front of her have chipped paint and poorly made makeshift attachments. Some of them have broken windows quick fixed with some plastic wrap taped over them. 

This place really is a picture perfect shit show. She grabs her two things of luggage from her backseat. One is a humongous suitcase and the other is a duffle bag she throws over her shoulder. She drags the suitcase behind her, it’s tiny wheels loud against the loose gravel. She makes her way in the only direction that looks half acceptable. 

Jed had described his house to her but looking around it seems like every other place here. Unfortunately she doesn’t get very far in her search before she hears a whistle from behind her. A poorly performed catcall. She turns and finds a lawn of over grown grass. Litter and wooden logs thrown about. 

Off towards the corner of a tiny, dingy trailer there’s an old broken down speed boat propped up with some cement blocks. In front of it, two men with hats and sleeveless shirts sit in fold-out chairs and sip their beer. They’re a decent distance away and it’s dark out but Penelope can tell they’re wearing too much jean and probably wrestle pigs in their free time.

“Can I help you?” She snaps and they both laugh.

One of them says, “Aw, baby I thought you’d never ask.”

The other says, “What’s got you lookin’ all gussied up? We don’t see ladies like you over here too often.”

Penelope ignores them. Not for the lack of an argument but because she knows to pick and choose her battles wisely and starting some thing with two full grown men in the middle of the night while she’s by herself isn’t the best plan of action.

“Ah, don’t bother with it,” thing one says to thing two. “Can already tell she’s stuck up higher than a light pole.”

Fuck this. She pulls out her phone and calls Jed. The bastard better pick up. Penelope listens impatiently but he picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she rolls her eyes. “I have no idea how to find your place.”

“What do you mean? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “There’s a boat and some sad huckleberry hillbillies.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “That’s Rocky Ray’s place. I’m right down the road, hold up.”

Not even a second later she hears a screen door slam open and turns to see Jed sticking halfway out the door. Thank god. He doesn’t look a day older than she remembers him. The sight of him feels even more nostalgic than M.G. 

“See?” He waves, still speaking into the phone. “Home sweet home!”

“Shut up,” Penelope barks, hanging up and marching towards his trailer.

“We’ll see ya around sweetheart,” one of the rednecks call after her and Penelope lifts up a middle finger. 

She’s going to hate living here even more than she hated New York. She can feel it in her bones. Jed races out the door, barefoot and all, to come meet her halfway. If you don’t count the short, black hair they don’t really look much alike. Jed’s eyes are dark brown while her’s are a lighter hazel. 

He has a tall stature, much taller than Penelope’s 5’3 self. She’d consider herself in shape but Jed’s athletic. All that time in jail left little to do but workout apparently. His left arm is covered in a full sleeve of tattoos and there’s a light scar that graces his upper lip. He looks like a mess right now. 

Shirtless, hair messy, and hands lightly stained with what Penelope can only hope is grease. The boy works on cars in his free time after all. Penelope can smell alcohol on him before he even reaches her and she hates how well he seemingly blends into the people of King’s Row. He wraps her up in a hug. For all his faults Penelope still finds comfort in his embrace. 

They were inseparable as children, less so as teens, but he is one of the only people she truly considers family. She drops her luggage and buries her face into his shoulder, holding on as tightly as she can. It’s the first time she’s felt genuinely safe in awhile. 

He laughs, “I missed you, Pennywise.”

She slaps at his chest, pushing him away. She definitely didn’t miss the teasing. “Don’t call me that.”

“C’mon. I’ll show you inside.”

Inside turns out to only be slightly better than the outside. Penelope nearly trips on the tiny metal steps it takes to get in through the front door. The floor beneath her feet creaks loudly, and it feels morphed, like it‘s going to cave in any minute. There isn’t a single sort of decoration on the walls. It‘s dark with Moth-eaten . . . sheets? (Definitely not curtains) drawn over grimy windows, leaving pinpricks of what little light remained from the moon to filter through the fabric holes. 

A small couch lines a wall, a neatly folded blanket with a pillow on top perched on an armrest. A small entertainment center with an old boxed television on top of it is angled in the corner. The kitchen is further in, so small that with the large refrigerator in the way, a person could probably barely walk two steps in each direction. The sink and cabinets are all pressed up to the wall while a stove and a single counter are all composed in a little corner. A few squares of carpet pulled out and replaced with white tile to complete the kitchen look. 

At the end of a hallway she can see a closed door. That’s it. The trailer isn’t very spacious, like at all. 

“You only have one room?” 

“No, of course not,” he scoffs and points upwards. “I’ve got six more upstairs.“

Penelope pinches the bridge of her nose, “Whatever, smart ass. Where do you want me to put my stuff. 

“I cleared out the hallway closet for you but honestly you don’t have as much stuff as I thought you would.”

“I left most of it behind.” 

“Yeah,” he says, plopping down the couch. “You’re pretty good at that.”

Penelope glares down at him from her spot still by the door, “Don’t start with me, okay? I just spent six hours in a car and two in an old gas station doing paperwork and getting shown how to press buttons.”

“Oh, that’s right. How was Salvatore’s?”

“Fucking awful, why didn’t you tell me the Saltzman twins ran the place?”

“I figured you already knew.”

“I didn’t. I figured the girls would have moved on to bigger and better things. If there’s anything worse than coming home it’s working underneath Lizzie Saltzman.”

Jed smirks, “Personally I’d love to work underneath her.”

Penelope rolls her eyes, “She’s married.”

“I’m joking. There’s one too many levels of crazy in that one for me.”

“Tell me about it. I can’t believe I’m stuck working there.”

“You can apply somewhere else you know?”

“You think I haven’t tried? Trust me, the gas station wasn’t my first choice. This is the smallest town ever, Jed. Everywhere I looked had no available positions. I had a very little time frame and hundreds of miles between me and finding a job. It was either this or fast food.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Jed shrugs. “I work fast food.”

“Exactly,” she crosses her arms. “But hey, at least you have your own place. This is quite the glorious piece of real estate.”

Jed laughs, “Trailer parks aren’t so bad.”

“No,” Penelope argues. “Some trailer parks aren’t so bad. King’s Row is the type of place that makes all the other ones look bad. This place is for white trash and losers waiting to go back to prison. What are you doing here, Jed?”

Jed glares, evidentially that comment is the one that’s finally struck some kind of nerve. 

“I’m giving you a place to stay aren’t I?” He snaps, pushing himself off the couch. “Get off your fucking high horse and accept that you’re picking up scraps now like the rest of us.”

He reaches around Penelope and locks the front door. His shoulders are tense, no longer comfortable in his own home and Penelope regrets her words. She always voices her opinions. It’s been awhile since she’s had to care about hurting someone’s feelings with them though. Brutal honesty is sometimes just brutal. 

Getting a taste of her own medicine doesn’t feel too good either. Picking up scraps. Yeah, that about sums up Penelope’s life right now. Mediocre job, couch surfing, her whole life in two bags, overdue bills, tarnished reputation, burned bridges and no options. Guess she isn’t exactly in the position to judge anyone anymore.

She opens her mouth to apologize but Jed shoulders past her again before she can. 

“I’m going to bed,” he mumbles on his way down the hall. “Welcome home.”

His bedroom door looks so thin it can be considered barely more than cardboard so when he slams it closed Penelope is surprised it doesn’t break right off the hinges. She stares at it awhile, frozen in her spot. She still hasn’t made her way in yet, stuck by the door, afraid of what making herself feel at home in a place like this could mean. With a sigh she places her bags at the foot of the couch and sits down. The spot is still warm from where Jed had sat. 

She runs her hands down her pants, feeling out of sorts and awkward. And tired. So, so tired. She leans back, the sofa a whole lot more comfortable than she expected. She planned to unpack, go through her nightly routine, work out her next plan of action like some kind of escape Mystic Falls project but her eyes suddenly close on their own accord. 

Sleep comes faster than she expects and she doesn’t have time to prepare herself. So, really, it’s just like everything else in her life lately.


	2. With The Same Set Of Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m alive and sorry.

Penelope has no idea why jamming this processed bag of nacho cheese into it’s stupid dispenser is so difficult but she would like to file an official complaint. She’s been trying for the past two minutes and her hands are started to cramp up. It’s a big bag and a slim slot, they couldn’t find an easier method? Penelope has better things to do than wrestle a sad sack of carbs and calories. 

“Need some help?” A voice comes from behind. 

She turns to glare at Hope Mikaelson, a walking, talking definition of the word smug. Her family is a pretty big deal. Her ancestors came to the states and immediately dominated businesses in the heart of Louisiana. They took all that money and helped the founding families of Mystic Falls fund the city into what it is today. Her parents, aunts, uncles, and nearly everyone in cohorts with them have always emitted an aura to rival angels: elite, luxurious, and polished to perfection. 

Hope has had nearly every privilege in life one could possibly have. Why she’s chosen to simply waste her life away in Mystic Falls is a shame. Well, she has her reasons. Her parents died when she was still pretty young and in high school she went down one hell of a dark spiral. She’s recovered since then but perhaps one can only fall so far before they realize the top isn’t where they belong.

Penelope is actually surprised to see just how good Hope looks. Clean and refined, chin held high again with that subtle superiority that has been breed into her. She’s filled out like a grown woman, auburn hair long, and blue eyes shinning brighter than Penelope has ever seen them. Anyone who didn’t know her then would never guess she’s struggled with such demons. 

“I’m fine,” Penelope huffs, leaning forward again to push the bag further into the slot.

Hope walks around, crosses her arms over her chest, and leans her back against the counter. From her peripheral vision Penelope can see her watching her. Hope’s lips are tilted up at the corner, eyes dancing with amusement. Penelope remembers one time in high school, it had to have been in math class. Hope is a year older and math was the only subject Penelope was ever advanced in. 

Penelope had fallen a bit behind and the teacher assigned them to work together. Hope was suppose to help, which she did, but she certainly made a show of it. Her little snide remarks and endless gloating resulted in lots of ‘bitchy banter’ between the two. Hope Mikaelson, when she’s herself, is one of the cockiest bastards you’ll ever meet. An ironic observation from Penelope but true nonetheless. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” she tells Penelope. 

“Obviously.”

It’s only her second day, not including that hellish night with Lizzie and so far she hasn’t learned much outside of how to run the till. She’s picking up the little things as she goes, no thanks to her coworkers. If it wasn’t for Lizzie she would have preferred night shifts with M.G instead of mid with Hope. 

“You have customers waiting at the register.”

Penelope sighs, dropping her head back on her shoulders. The world is about to have one less red head. 

“So can you get them?”

Hope shrugs, “It’s your till.”

Penelope grits her teeth, “Then can you finish this so I can go ring them up?”

“Thought you didn’t need help?”

Penelope slaps the dispenser pieces back together. It collides harder than she intends for it to and she hears a definite _snap_ that lets her know she’s most likely broken something but she doesn’t care. The cheese still isn’t in right and it probably won’t pour properly but she doesn’t care about that either. She’s so tired of people giving her a hard time already. She gets it, she talked a big game and acted like a bitch just to come back with her tail between her legs, but what did they want from her?

She can’t just change what she told her friends. She can’t just take back all the cruel things she said. She has failure stamped across her forehead and everyone who knows her can see it. She wishes she could go back in time. She’d still go to New York, some life lessons had to be learned, but she would definitely take a do over in high school. 

Maybe not make such a big deal about leaving Mystic Falls. Maybe not criticize everyone else’s future. Maybe she wouldn’t slap that metaphorical #1 on her chest until she actually deserved it. Maybe, just maybe, she would have let her crush know how much she really meant to Penelope. Karma is really coming back to bite her in the ass on all accounts. 

Without looking back at Hope she makes her way up to the register. There is a couple waiting so really, that’s like, one customer. They’re older and Penelope is about ninety five percent sure they’re the parents of one of the girls she use to know in high school but she certainly isn’t about to bring it up. She rings them up quickly, respectfully trying to keep the conversation as short as possible and sends them on their way. She storms back to the damn nacho cheese dispenser and Hope is still there. Smug smile firmly in place. 

“Don’t you have something to do?” Penelope snaps.

Hope snickers, “You’re doing such a good job around here there’s hardly anything left for me to do.”

“I can’t wait until I’m out of here.”

“Oh c’mon, Penelope,” Hope says, rolling her eyes. “You know I’m just fucking with you. It’s funny that the rest of us are finally in a position to piss off The She-Devil. You were always too above it all to care about our opinions before.”

“That isn’t actually what you guys called me, is it?”

No one talked more shit in high school than Penelope Park but at least she had the decency to do it to people’s faces. The group gossip, the whispers behind her back, the rumors that carried her name, those were the worst in her opinion. She shouldn’t be surprised though. She may have been one of the most popular girls in school but it wasn’t because of love and admiration. 

“Oh we called you a lot of things,” Hope says honestly. “Mostly Lizzie but we all had our favorites.”

“Thought you’d be more creative.”

Hope scoffs, “We all lacked creativity, remember? And originality and determination and that’s why we would all spend the rest of our lives in Mystic Falls.”

Penelope gives her a pointed look.

“That’s what you said,” Hope shrugs. “Isn’t it?”

Penelope rolls her eyes, “Do you want me to apologize or something?”

“No. You had four years to apologize. You meant it then and you mean you now.”

“Well,” Penelope gestures around vaguely. “I wasn’t exactly wrong! Here you all are. Still in Mystic Falls, capital of where everyone’s dreams go to die. Look at Lizzie, she wanted to be an L.A actor and never even made it close to the West Coast. M.G wanted to produce music in New York and that dream never even so much as made it to the internet. Didn’t you want to be some kind of painter? Decorate New Orleans with your art?”

“Just because our dreams haven’t come true doesn’t mean we have to feel like failures. Most of us are happy with our lives. I can’t say the same for you. It’s comedic honestly, watching you scramble around, so desperate to leave again. Have you considered maybe, just maybe, Mystic Falls isn’t the problem?” 

Hope’s tone is malicious and her words are like a crystal clear reflection of Penelope’s own insecurities.

“I bet you were _miserable_ in New York. You’ll be miserable in the next city too and the one after that because everywhere you go will have one thing in common, one thing that will always make you unhappy. You.”

Hope’s words cut into Penelope like a hot knife, twisting the edge around beneath her skin, hitting every exposed nerve. This is worse than Jed’s ‘picking up scraps’ comment. It hurts her somewhere she’s been guarding for a long time. She feels tears prickle at the corner of her eyes but she’s refuses to let them fall. 

“Fuck this,” Penelope shakes her head, marching towards the door. 

The white walls around her seem to spin in on themselves, mixing together with the red counters and heavy duty shelving, making her journey out of this miserable hellhole feel longer than it should. She feels like she’s going to faint. All of her worries and self doubt rushing to her head faster than she can process. Damn Hope Mikaelson. Damn Jed. Damn anyone who still lives in this stupid fucking town. 

Penelope Park is down but she is not out. There has to be another way. A better way than rotting at Salvatore’s and getting chewed on by the vultures she use to go to school with. They’re picking away at her and she just knows they’ll continue to do so until there’s nothing left. Her vision is blurry for a moment before the tears finally escape, racing one another down her face, leaving hot trails of shame in their wake.

She notices just as she’s about to reach for the door that their is someone in her way. She glares up at them, ready to destroy anyone else who has something to say but instantly looses all train of thought when she actually sees who it is. Josie Saltzman stands before her in the form of a beautiful blockade.

“Sorry,” she says, stepping to the side, sweeping her arm out in a kind gesture. “Go ahead.”

Penelope’s heart stutters at being addressed by her. God, how long has it been? It feels like just yesterday she was pinning for the girl up and down the halls of Mystic Falls High, desperate for even a second alone with her. There was a time, not even that long ago, Penelope genuinely believed that she would never see this girl again and here she was. 

“You sure you want to let her go, Josie?” Hope asks behind her. “Pretty sure Penelope was just in the middle of quitting.”

“Well I wasn’t,” Penelope lies while she expertly (and what she hopes is subtly) wipes the tears away. The last thing she needs is Josie Saltzman seeing her with smudged mascara. “I was just going to check the trash outside.”

Ugh, yeah, because that’s attractive. God, she hates this job. 

“That’s good to hear,” Josie says, not sounding very convinced at all. Penelope has never really been able to lie to her. She suddenly holds out her hand. “My name’s Josie. I’m one of the mangers here at Salvatore’s. It’s nice to meet you.”

Confused, Penelope hesitantly shakes it. The girl’s hand, soft and gentle, still fits perfectly in her own but the strangeness of this interaction weighs too heavily on Penelope’s chest to not address it. 

“Why are you acting as if we’ve never met?”

“Because,” Josie explains. “I’m one of your bosses now and unlike Lizzie I want to give us a fresh start.”

“A fresh start?” Penelope repeats. “Why? I remember us leaving off on pretty good terms.”

Penelope’s grin is mischievous, remembering that night they spent upstairs at that douche bag Connor’s graduation party. Admittedly, it was seventy-nine percent awkward fumbling and fifteen percent nervous giggles but Penelope’s favorite part was that five percent. The five percent that was all hesitant touches and soft skin and shy moans.

Her grin falters when Josie suddenly glares at her, “You and I remember things very differently.”

And then Josie’s yanking her hand away and gathering the paperwork off the counter. Alright, apparently Josie remembers that last percent, the one that was all arguing and heartbreak and yeah, Penelope has tried really hard to forget that last one percent. 

Hope snickers, not even trying to hide her amusement and Penelope resists the urge to grab a pen and stab the girl’s eyes out. 

“I actually have some things to go over with you,” Josie says. “Hope will you please keep an eye out for customers?”

“No problem,” the red head shrugs all of the sudden, like she hadn’t been giving Penelope a hard time about the same thing a minute ago. 

Josie saunters by, her signature fruity fragrance hitting Penelope like a long lost aphrodisiac. Penelope watches her go, eyebrows furrowed and so very confused. 

“Penelope,” Josie calls from the back. “I need you to follow me.”

“Oh,” she spins on her heals, that familiar sense of being at Josie’s beck and call flooding her veins. “Yeah. I’m coming!”

Hmm, where had she heard that before? 

The back office is small, probably smaller than it should be. Crowded with mountains of paperwork and back stock of nasty cigarettes that just about everyone in King’s Row smokes. Penelope is half convinced that there’s some covert operation that links everything she dislikes about home with her job. There’s a counter behind them overflowing with wires too and screens that make up their sad excuse of security cameras. Penelope doesn’t think she could spend hours a day in this sort of environment. 

Josie takes a seat at the desk crammed in the corner, the space mostly taken up by the massive computer and printer. She gestures to the other chair, a metal one folded up against the opposite wall, and Penelope rolls her eyes before opening it up and plopping down. She sits like she owns the chair, stretched out with her feet propped up on one of the many boxes of God only knows what laying around. Josie looks at her from over her shoulder, a mix between amusement and unimpressed but Penelope doesn’t move. She doesn’t have it in her to act proper right now, something about this situation has to be comfortable, it might as well be the way she sits. 

She stays that way for a while, leaning back and just watching as Josie types away on her computer. Josie is Lizzie’s twin sister but no one would be able to guess that. The term polar opposites was invented in preparation of their birth. Being fraternal has left them looking nothing alike. Josie is shorter, brunette and has eyes the color of the earth after a heavy rain. 

She’s traditional and proper, equal parts beauty and compassion. Lizzie’s just a bitch. Penelope doesn’t know how their parents raised them without constantly getting whiplash. Penelope is tempted to compliment Josie, just to try and wash away some of the bad blood that still flows between them. She doesn’t know what to say though, she doesn’t want to come off as flirtatious again, and there’s so much to compliment Josie on. 

She doesn’t know where to start. Josie beats her to it anyway. Great minds think alike, after all.

“I like your hair,” Josie says offhandedly, still looking at her computer screen, obviously just trying to defuse the tension between them.

Penelope use to have long hair, dark wavy strands that made half the girls in her grade jealous. Now it’s shorter, a sophisticated bob, brushing her shoulders and framing the angles of her face better. At least, in Penelope’s opinion it did. 

“Thanks,” Penelope can’t suppress her smile. 

She didn’t really know what to expect upon seeing Josie again. Every little thing she does seems familiar and foreign at the same time. In the five minutes that they’ve been reunited she’s already been cold and indifferent but she’s also been welcoming and thoughtful. Penelope hopes this is just a readjustment thing, she doesn’t know if she’ll survive this kind of back and forth with Josie Saltzman again. Penelope suddenly hears a definite click and then the printer spits out the result. 

Josie turns around, her back now to the computer and a few papers in her hands. She’s looking over them one last time, lost in thought, just flipping through the paperwork. Penelope gets a little lost in watching her too, such a simple act in such a crappy setting and somehow Josie Saltzman makes it look like the best kind of dream. It isn’t until Penelope’s eyes travel down to the paperwork in her hands that something awful finally catches her attention. It’s a ring, small but glinting underneath the office lights and Penelope doesn’t like what finger it rests on.

“So,” Josie finally begins. “The schedule is getting all rearranged—”

“You’re married?” Penelope interrupts, unable to think about anything else. M.G and Lizzie were a surprise but she’s completely devastated by this one. 

“Um,” Josie follows her line of sight and begins playing with the ring, twisting it around on her finger like a nervous habit. “No, not yet. I’m engaged.”

“To who?” The question comes out far more demanding than Penelope means for it to and Josie notices.

Her glare is back, nose crinkling like she’s disgusted at Penelope’s tone, “That’s none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” Penelope tries to back pedal, she’s glad the girl has grown a back bone over the years but it feels like her heart is being pulverized every time Josie fights her. “I was just curious.”

“Why? Is it that surprising to you someone out there actually thinks I’m worth sticking around for?”

That . . . is not the response Penelope was expecting. Although, in hindsight, it probably should have been. Josie wanted her to stay as much as she had wanted Josie to go. Back when they were young and dumb and dancing on that line in between lovers and friends. Penelope had been so sure she was taking the right steps, making the right decisions. She was certain Josie and her could cross that line and never look back. That they would live happily ever after in New York, kissing every New Years in Times Square and spending every night in their quaint little apartment in the throes of passion. How did it all end up like this instead?

Penelope sighs, “Josie that’s not—”

“We’re getting off topic.”

“No, Jojo we should—”

“Stop,” Josie looks hurt and Penelope is wracked with guilt, it’s all her fault. “Don’t call me that. We’re at work. Let’s talk about work.”

Then she starts talking about the schedule and how some shifts have been moved. Josie is awful at acting casual. Her tone is forced and high pitched and Penelope knows the other girl is probably trying not to cry. Whether it’s from the painful memories or the nerves from the confrontation it doesn’t matter, it breaks Penelope’s heart all the same. She just nods through Josie’s explanation, unable to really look the girl in the eyes anymore. 

Josie Saltzman is engaged and it isn’t to Penelope. Of course, Penelope has known that sort of thing would happen for awhile but she never thought she’d be back to witness it. Out of sight out of mind. Now it’s definitely on Penelope’s mind. It isn’t too surprising; Josie is gorgeous, put together, and far more charismatic than any twenty-one year old has a right to be. 

She’s always found herself in the wrong crowd though. Surrounded by Lizzie’s little gang of wanna be badasses rather then genuine people to call friends. In school, Penelope had always imagined Josie’s proper place to be with the cheerleaders and future football stars. She was the cute girl next door on every television show. She looked lost between M.G and hardcore loner Hope Mikaelson. 

Josie just was and still is all smiles and perfectly styled hair, friendly and probably more open than is for her own good. Lizzie is much the same but her sharp tongue and vicious resilience always protected her. Josie wasn’t defenseless per say, but she certainly was an easier target then her sister. Even with Lizzie’s bitchiness and disorder induced tantrums, Josie still managed to get picked on more in school. It still baffles Penelope. They aren’t in high school anymore though and trivial things like that don’t matter. 

Just one look at Josie makes it obvious anyone would be lucky to have her, people probably throw themselves at her daily, and she obviously found someone worth catching. It’s strange really how even after four years of absolutely no communication Penelope can still feel the jealously crashing into her chest like waves on a shore. 

“Penelope are you even listening?” Josie suddenly asks.

Penelope shakes her head, “No.”

She doesn’t have it in her to even try and lie. Especially not to Josie. Today has been an emotional roller coaster, well, everyday in Mystic Falls is an emotional roller coaster but this one takes the cake. 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Penelope tells her, still looking down at Josie’s shoes which are simple black sneakers, shiny and scuff-less like they’re brand spanking new. “I just don’t care where you put me on the schedule.” Which is only a little bit of a lie because if she’s put with Lizzie she’ll commit multiple felonies. “I have open availability. I don’t have anything else going on in my life. I don’t have any friends I want to see. I just want to work until I get back on my feet and find some other sad, shitty place to hole myself up in. Preferably somewhere everyone I went to high school with isn’t waiting around the corner with pitch forks and torches.”

She still doesn’t look up at Josie, she refuses to, and it’s an awkward silence between them again. The tension a little more depressing this time around. Penelope hopes Josie isn’t pitying her. Or maybe that is what she wants. She doesn’t know anymore. 

In the end Josie’s response is simply, “You’re not how I remember you.”

Penelope wants to cry again now too. She feels the emotions bubble back up in no time, ready to erupt like a volcano. She wants to tell Josie everything. Every little trial and tribulation she had in New York. About the awful people and their awful manners and the awful things that have happened to Penelope. 

But she can’t, because deep down she knows that it’s all some beautiful sort of karma, all consequences to her own actions. She’s just a mess bathing in her own misery. The job, the frenemies, the drugs, the literal ass-kickings, everything that went wrong with New York, it’s all her fault one way or another. She doesn’t know what she wants but she knows she doesn’t want Josie to think any less of her than she already does. Pity is one thing, shame is another so Penelope doesn’t tell her anything. 

Instead she says, “Neither are you.”

They don’t talk much more after that, Josie forces Penelope to okay the schedule and then sends her on her way. Hope gives her a weird look when she gets back out to the registers, conflicted and all knowing and Penelope is beyond embarrassed at the realization that she probably heard every word. 

“I’ve got it,” she mumbles, shooing Hope away from the till as fast as she can. 

Apparently Mikaelsons do know mercy because the red head doesn’t say a word before walking away, returning to the back of the store or to hell from whence she came. Penelope presses her hands to the counter and twists her body. As comfortable as Jed’s couch is it still manages to cramp up her back. It pops once, twice, three times and she sighs in momentary relief. It’s going to be a long day.

* * *

The thing about Mystic Falls is that it’s actually sort of beautiful. A picturesque town located in central Virginia with a population of nearly seven thousand. It’s old and classic, dating back to the 1800’s with many of it’s buildings’ foundations being just as old. This place is rich with it’s own kind of culture, many famous historical events have happened right here, endless statues and memorials telling you exactly which ones. There seems to be a vintage shop on every corner and every house is lined with a white picket fence. 

Cost of living is high but most of the citizens are well off enough not to care and crime rate is low which drawls in tourists and retirees alike. The nature scenery helps too. The whole town is surrounded by an array of tall trees, the Virginia forestry never ending, so full of wildlife and mystery. A curtain of green hiding Mystic Falls away from the rest of the world. Penelope wishes she could see it like this all the time instead of her vision constantly being muddled with resentment and disdain. 

She doesn’t really see this side of town too often anyway. King’s Row is tucked away, out of sight and out of mind for everyone except Penelope and the rest of it’s lowly inhabitants. It’s a bit a shame but Penelope understands. She wouldn’t want to broadcast that shit storm either. 

“These?” Jed suddenly asks as he walks towards her holding up a sack of brown vegetables.

Penelope sighs, “Those are potatoes. I asked you to grab yams.”

“I don’t know the difference!”

“Yeah because you live off of freezer food and booze.”

Right now they’re in the produce section of a grocery store and Penelope really didn’t think it would be this bad but it is. Jed (and now by extension Penelope) just needs something in that fridge besides Hot Pockets and Coors Light. He wasn’t raised like this, Penelope’s aunt and uncle use to prepare dinner every night, her own mother use to be incredibly jealous by how well her aunty could cook. Jed was raised in the same proper, elegant type of household Penelope was the only difference seems to be that the expectations and regulations forced upon them as kids only made him act out more when he was finally given an ounce of freedom. Penelope wanted to escape her prison, Jed apparently wanted to burn his down. 

“I think I’m doing alright for myself,” Jed smirks, making a show out of flexing his arm, his bicep rippling underneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“You won’t be in your twenties forever,” Penelope explains. “You should start eating better now before it’s too late.”

“Whatever you say, Aileen Wuornos.”

Penelope blinks, “Excuse me?”

Jed looks as confused as she does, “Isn’t that the lady who’s like a spokesperson for dieting?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s a serial killer.”

“Oh,” Jed shrugs. “Same thing.”

“How is that—” Penelope stops, unable to force herself to continue the stupidity that is this conversation. “Look whatever, I’m not enforcing here I’m just encouraging. It’s a miracle you don’t have a beer gut yet but that’s not really a good way to judge your health.”

“Hey,” Jed ignores her, pointing towards an aisle. “Isn’t that M.G and Lizzie.”

Penelope follows his line of sight and sure enough the married couple are out shopping, making their way into the produce section. Lizzie looks like she’s on a warpath as she crosses something off her list and M.G happily follows behind her, standing on the bottom rack of his cart and riding after her. Penelope turns her back to them, not wanting to deal with the Greasleys this early in the morning but Jed doesn’t get the memo. That or (and this option is more likely) he just doesn’t care. 

“Yo, Greasleys!” He calls out, earning everyone’s attention around them. 

All the customers in the vicinity are now watching them, whispering under their breaths in that blatantly judgmental way that is a signature move for the citizens of Mystic Falls. Penelope wants a big hole in the ground to appear and swallow her whole. In New York a car crash hardly even turned people’s heads. She got too accustomed to the NY pedestrians not giving a shit about anyone except themselves. Now she’s back where everything you do matters. 

It’s all just a game for the small town hierarchy but Penelope has always been a sore loser. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” M.G calls back in what is a surprisingly good Fat Albert impersonation. 

“Oh look,” Lizzie’s greeting is a little less friendly, eyes flickering over Penelope unimpressed. “It’s satan. In a crop top.”

Lizzie can say whatever she likes, Penelope knows she looks good. She sticks out like a sore thumb in her designer clothes but she’s dressed casual by her own standards. She even opted out of wearing a cape today. 

“Damn,” Jed laughs. “Right off the bat, huh?”

Lizzie rolls her eyes, “Mind your business, Alpha Boy.”

The nickname makes Penelope smile against her will. In high school Jed and a bunch of other jocks were bragging about their ‘alpha male’ status and Lizzie and Penelope teased them about it any chance they could. It caught on pretty quick with some other girls too and well, Penelope didn’t hear them bragging about their misguided ethology too much after that. It’s one of the few things Lizzie and Penelope actually agreed on in high school.

Jed groans, “When are you gonna let that go?”

“When you die, Fido.”

“Lizzie,” M.G drawls out in what Penelope assumes is suppose to be a warning tone but he still sounds so sickeningly in love it’s hard to take it seriously. 

“Shouldn’t you two love birds be sleeping?” Penelope asks. 

“We switched shifts,” M.G explains. “Didn’t you see the new schedule?”

How could she not have? Josie practically shoved the paper down her throat but Penelope was so upset she barely managed to remember when her own shifts were. 

“Babe,” Lizzie fake whispers. “Didn’t I tell you about the mental break down Penelope had over the schedule?”

“That’s not what happened,” Penelope defends herself, heat creeping into her cheeks at the confirmation that Josie talks about her. “Is that what she told you?”

“Oh,” Lizzie pouts. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

From the corner of her eye she can see M.G and Jed share a look of confusion. She sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to explain. 

Jed claps, “Anyway, what are you guys shopping for?”

“Food, obviously.”

“We’re just getting some stuff for Kaleb’s barbecue tonight,” M.G says. “You guys should come!”

Penelope scoffs, “I’d rather deep throat a branding iron.”

“C’mon Pen!” M.G whines, leaning into her with those puppy dog eyes. “We haven’t hung out since you got back. It’ll be so much fun!”

Penelope doubts it’ll be anything close to fun. It won’t be like it was in high school where Penelope was the center of attention, the crowd wouldn’t be formed around her like some kind of protective barrier, and M.G wouldn’t just be at her beck and call to drive her home when she’s had too much to drink. No, this would be Penelope getting attacked at every turn by old familiar faces until she’s backed up in a corner somewhere sipping off a cheap beer all alone like some kind of loser loner. Kaleb Hawkins use to play football, Penelope supposes she was never too harsh to him, but they didn’t exactly get along either. If Lizzie is there then Josie would no doubt be attending as well and that meant she’d probably drag along whoever the hell she was getting married to. 

Kaleb also use to be just as popular as Penelope. Who knows how many people the guy will invite. So no, absolutely not, a billionaire couldn’t pay Penelope enough to—

“We’ll be there,” Jed says, clapping a hand on Penelope’s back like she’s one of his degenerate friends from King’s Row. 

“Uh,” Penelope looks up at her cousin in shock. “Excuse me—”

“Anything you need us to bring?” Jed cuts her off, looking to M.G for answers.

They’re all standing near the fruit baskets. It’s set up as an impressive display of nature’s colors, a wide range of different produce options and yet, Penelope is tempted to pick up whatever is closest to her and smash it into her cousin’s stupid face. Preferably something citrusy though. 

“Nah,” M.G shakes his head. “Just smiles and good vibes.”

Good vibes her ass. She’s going to get roasted more than anything else at that barbecue. Lizzie knows this too because she’s staring at Penelope with the most sinister of smiles. Penelope stares back, a scowl consuming her features and they lock in a silent battle that isn’t even interrupted by M.G giving her one of his signature bear hugs. They keep glaring at one another from over his shoulder, neither willing to give up the fight. 

Eventually M.G pulls away though, taking his warmth and kindness with him and Lizzie says, “See you there, Park.” 

Maybe Penelope should have just stayed in New York. She could have made homeless fashionable right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate and read all the comments, I promise. It motivates me to write more than kudos or anything else. They all make my day. I hope you guys like the story. I still can’t promise when future updates are coming out though.


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